Stepping into Growth

"In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth, or to step back into safety."
Abraham Maslow

I came across this quote the other day, and I've thought about it a lot. 

At this point, there isn't much hope for us ever naturally achieving a healthy pregnancy. Testing after this last miscarriage revealed the same chromosomal balanced translocation that was discovered in Max's genes. So, we're just trying to figure out which one of us it is coming from. There are expensive IVF options for trying to conceive a genetically sound baby, but we're not really interested in those options. So, that leaves us with two options: We can keep trying in hopes that eventually we'd get a healthy baby, knowing that more miscarriages or birth defects would come, OR we can look into adoption. The first option is, obviously terrifying. The thought going through any more miscarriages or burying another child is unimaginable. Adoption sounds wonderful, but unless we find a healthy, nonsmoker knocked up girl who just wants to hand us her child, adoption is a lengthy and expensive process that also doesn't always have secure guarantees. 

At points, I've felt ready to give up all hope; to just stay put where we are and accept life as a family of two, afraid to endure anymore failure. Part of me, the scared part of me, thinks it would be better and safer to not try anymore. At least there'd be no more failure. I just don't know how much more loss our hearts can take! But then, the other part of me can't imagine never trying again. That part of me isn't ready to give up on becoming a mother. That part of me isn't ready to think about never getting pregnant again or never finding our children. 

And Maslow's right. In life, we can accept the hard things and move forward, ready to learn and grow through our experiences, or we can shy away in fear and never learn a damn thing. No matter how hard the last 5 years have been, I cannot deny how blessed I've felt and I cannot say I'm not grateful. Even with the losses, I am so grateful for my three pregnancies, for my sweet angel boy and the 5 incredible weeks we had with him. 

We don't get to choose our hard things. We don't get to decide the trials we face. But we do get to choose how we face them and decide what attitude we will have while we endure.

Staying put might feel safe, but it's not worth it. We have to take the leap, step up and make the hard choices and try, even if we fail.

XO

The Power of Faith

“The power of faith in our lives can be profound...
The purpose of Faith is not to change God's will, but to empower us to act on God's will... Faith is trust: trust that God sees what we cannot, that he knows what we do not. Sometimes trusting our own vision is not enough… Faith means we trust not only in his wisdom, but that we trust also in his love. It means trusting that God loves us perfectly. That everything He does, every blessing he gives, and every blessing He, for a time, withholds is for our eternal happiness. With this kind of faith, though we may not understand why certain things happen or why some prayers go unanswered, we can know that in the end everything will make sense." || Dieter F. Uchtdorf

I know I've been writing about Faith a lot lately, but it's been a subject that has been heavy on my mind for, really, the last year, but especially the last few months.

In the wake of this last miscarriage, I felt overwhelmed with misunderstanding and, even, anger. I wrote to you all about how hopeless I felt in my blog post about that pregnancy loss. After everything I'd remained faithful through, that miscarriage felt like a slap in the face. My faith suffered. For the first time in my entire life I felt ready to give it all up. A voice inside me that I had never heard, shouted at me, "If this is what we get for being faithful, then why are we even bothering?" I felt completely lost. 

Some may wonder how I got to be nearly 30, and through some of life's greatest trials without ever having wavered in faith. For me, faith has always felt like a spiritual gift to me. Faith was as natural as breathing. Trusting the Lord always made sense. And this definitely helped me greatly in my life, but it also hindered my ability to empathize with others who struggled to understand faith. But in that ultrasound room on July 28th, I understood what it felt like to grasp for faith and not find a strong hold. It suddenly felt like I could never understand God's plan or ever trust in Him. I wrestled with my thoughts as I began to tick off a list of all the reasons I did not deserve to keep enduring this pain of loss, "I try to live righteously. I pray. I read my scriptures. I go to the temple. I serve at my church. I share my testimony with others. I did not lose faith through infertility. I did not abandon my faith when we lost our first pregnancy. I did not give up faith during my pregnancy with Max. And I stood faithful and praised God while I gave the eulogy at his funeral. I did it all right. So, why this? Why now? Why more pain? Why bother? Why keep trusting?" 

Great faith requires a lot of trust- trust in God's divine plan for us, trust in His eternal love for us, trust in the Savior's infinite atonement for us. While for some faith comes a little more easily, that kind of trusting faith is not built within us or maintained by us easily. It takes daily prayer and pleading with the Lord to help us see. It requires diligently studying the words of the scriptures to help us understand. Faith takes work and action. Without it, everything, every trial and hardship, would feel impossible to overcome. But with it, it all be comes a little easier to endure. 

Faith does not make the hard struggles of life go away, but, I realized, neither does giving up your faith. If  I gave it all up, if I stopped trusting in the Lord because things got hard, things would not stop being hard. The trials of life, the struggles of mortality would remain, but my ability to navigate them peacefully and wisely would be lost. That is what faith does. "The power of faith in our lives can be profound," it can give us strength to endure that could never posses with out it. That trusting faith in the Lord offers us guidance through the difficult times and the peace we need to keep going. And that is why I cannot and will not give up my faith.

Do not give up your faith. If you already have, pray to the Lord to help you regain its power. It will take time and energy, but you will be able to hold strong to it once again.

Do not be deceived into thinking that trials are punishments, or that God does not wish to bless you. that could not be further from the truth. God is not punishing you or ignoring you. Life is just full of testing and of trying our faith. God wishes for nothing more than to bless you, and when the power of faith is alive in you the blessings become so much more evident.

 Stay true. Keep trusting. Hold tightly to your faith. Sooner than you think, it will all make sense.

XO

Faith No Matter What

A year ago today, we celebrated our anniversary early with a day trip to SLC to meet with the pediatric neurosurgeons at Primary's. We spent hours looking at the MRI they took of my abdomen trying to make sense of what to do with Max. They had given us hope that they believed he could survive to delivery, but they were not sure beyond that. An MRI after birth would tell us more, but the Dr. did feel we could lengthen Max's life with a few surgeries.

Afterwards we got dinner & took a sunset walk around Temple Square. I remember walking through the streams of sunlight as they peaked and shined around the temple, and talking about all the what-ifs: What if things turn out to be better than they look on his MRI? What if he's severely handicapped? What if none of this works?... What if he doesn't make it?

I remember standing in the shadow of the Salt Lake City Temple as Tyler wiped tears from my cheeks and said, "We know the odds don't give us a lot of hope for  long life for Max. So, we'll love him with every second we get. And when he goes, we will hold on to each other and our faith in God. That's all we can do, Brit. It's what we have to do." I knew in that moment that no matter how hard it would be to lose our son, we could do it. I knew I could get through anything with Tyler, and with the Lord. We did our signature pinky swear with tears in our eyes, saying our promise, "Forever and Always, Always and Forever, To Infinity and Beyond."

We had this talk so many times before Max was born and on daily drives to the NICU. We were constantly promising ourselves, each other and Heavenly Father that we would remain faithful, no matter what came. We knew we could not let this push us away from our faith or push us apart.

Especially after Max was born, it became even harder to accept the possibility of his death. I remember the first time they put him in my arms. He was a week old and I could not even contain my emotions. I remember thinking, "How will I ever survive without this? What will I do when I can't hold him anymore" I rocked him in tears, praying to God to let me keep him a little longer. I am forever grateful that Heavenly Father gave us the tender mercy and unbelievable miracle of five beautiful weeks with our sweet boy.

No matter the difficulty, no matter the trial, I promise you that it's never worth it to walk away from God in your greatest hour of need. Leaving faith does not erase the problems, it only erases your lifeline to endure. Keep praying. Keep believing. 

Stay faithful, no matter what.

Into the Forest I go...

I read this quote not too long ago, probably on Pinterest,

"And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul." 

and I thought of it again this weekend while I wandered through trees and around lakes in the Uintas.

We went camping with our family. If you haven't camped in the Uintas, put it on your bucket list and check it off soon. By far, it is among the most beautiful places I have ever seen! It's cold, it will probably rain at some point during the day, but it is worth staying for.

Most of the family fish. I don't. So I walked the trails along and around the lakes, thinking, taking in the majestic views, and taking pictures.

I watched my brother-in-law and sister-in-law with my nephew. I watched them teaching him to fish for the first time. I watched them walk hand-in-hand. I watched them be the adorable little family I love. And while I watched them, I thought of the babies I never knew and I thought of Max. I thought about this time last year and how we wondered what our lives would be like a year from then. I knew then that it was very possible that Max wouldn't be here, but I'd hoped with all of my being that he would be. Tyler and I had dreamed of how our little family would be with a son with many disabilities. We embraced it. We weren't scared of living that life. We were only scared of not having our little boy. And as I watched my sister-in-law swing my nephew up to sit on her shoulders, I thought about how Tyler had said he would carry Max every day of his life, if he couldn't walk. And as our sweet little nephew ran around the lakes and through the mud and tall grass, I thought of how I could have a baby carrier strapped on me with Max while I followed.

I wondered what life would be like if Max had lived. And I even dared to wonder what life would be like if Max had been a completely healthy child.

In these thoughts, my heart teetered between joy and pain. Joy in what I have, and pain in what I've lost. Joy in what could be, and pain in what may never come again.

I don't know what the future holds right now. I don't know how Tyler and I will create a family. I don't know what the Lord has in store. But I do know that the Lord has a plan. I know that in the future I will feel the joy I once held in my arms again. I know that in my soul.

My soul is at such complete peace in the mountains. In the quiet, beautiful places the Lord has created I feel I can hear Him best. I can let go of all the crazy things that pester my mind in the real world, and I can escape to my true soul in the shadow of the trees.

So, as I pondered by the lakes, this weekend, I thought of that quote and this little poem came to me.

Finding peace in the quiet of the mountains.
Finding joy in the land of the Lord.
Finding hope in the great wide open.

I lost myself in the forest,
but I found my very own soul.
-Brittany King

XO.

All Made Right

My heart, albeit still quite tender, is mending. The pieces, so carefully placed back together, are binding and fusing into place. And it feels stronger than it ever has.

I was embarrassed to admit my defeat to all of you in my last post. I felt so ashamed in my anger and bitterness. But I am only human. I am imperfect and prone to feel the sting of it. For the first time in my life, my faith slipped like sand through my fingers. I wanted to hold on to it in that moment. I knew I needed it. I desperately tried to hold on, but I couldn't keep it all within my grasp. There was a booming voice within me that hushed the quiet voice of peace. A confusion began to rock me and I felt uneasy on my own feet. Suddenly, I knew nothing, except that everything felt hopeless. 

How could I pray and talk to God? He knew what had happened. He knew what had been done. He knew how I felt. I had nothing new to tell him. And how could I receive peace from this God who took away all the happiness I had ever been given? It was too much; it felt like too much. How could I keep going? How could I keep believing? How could I keep enduring in faith?

Well, how could I not??

Let me tell you, even in my fit of anger and my calls of betrayal, My Lord never left me. He stood by. He waited for me to calm. And He outstretched His arms for me when I, at last, collapsed into His love. Because he never, ever leaves us. Even when we step away, even when we run away. He waits. He stands by, arms ready to catch us. George Q. Cannon once said, "No matter how serious the trial, how deep the distress, how great the affliction, God will never desert us. He never has, and He never will. He cannot do it. It is not His character to do so... He will always stand by us. We may pass through the fiery furnace; we may pass through deep waters; but we shall not be consumed nor overwhelmed. We shall emerge from all these trials and difficulties the better and purer for them." We leave God. God does not leave us. Ever.

So, how could I not remain faithful to a God who remains ever faithful to me? How could I desert the the God that gave me Max and the hundreds of miracles that came in those 5 weeks of his life and in the months following its end. How could I let this setback allow me to forget everything He has blessed me with? Because that is just it, ya know? We all have difficult mountains to climb. We all have tough trials to endure. It is life. It is not punishment from God. It is not a curse. It is just life! And if we take a good look around and evaluate everything, then we can really see all that the Lord does for us to help us get through those hard times. He is always right there, giving us help and blessing us with the tools we need to endure. And when we feel like no one understands, like our pain is just too great, there is One who does understand and He will take away all our pain. 

Our loving, pure, perfect Savior sacrificed all He had for each of us. When he atoned in the Garden of Gethsemane, He felt each of our pains and heartbreaks. He has carried each of our burdens. He knows our griefs; he knows every ache. Because of His ultimate act of love, because of Him we can be made whole. I recently read in Preach My Gospel, "All that is unfair about life can be made right through the atonement of Jesus Christ." There is no promise more beautiful than that! Everything that is difficult, heartbreaking and unfair in this mortal existence cannot ruin eternity. The Savior has paved a way for us to achieve more happiness than we can ever comprehend. 

We cannot focus on the trials, the losses, and the hardships, because there is still so much more to be grateful for. Christ and Heavenly Father are always constant; they are always there. So, there is always hope. 

So, no, I cannot give up that faith. I cannot give up the faith that sustains me. I cannot give up the God that never gives up on me. I cannot give up on the only hope I have. I cannot give up on His great plan of happiness that promise me joy. I can endure this. We can all endure. We can persevere through it all, because we are never alone. We are never left empty handed. If we just seek the Lord, if we just reach our for His help, we can conquer anything. "We are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." (Romans 8:37) 

Somewhere Beyond the Rainbow

6.21.16

I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant?

Due to a sweet, personal experience, I knew I was pregnant. I didn't know how I knew it. I just knew. I could feel this precious spirit with me. It was late, but I stopped at the store for a pack of pregnancy tests. I hurried home and decided to get ready for bed and test in the morning. I was 4 days early to my projected period start date, and I had drank tons of water. I knew the result would be more clear in the morning. So, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, always keeping an eye on the box of pregnancy tests. I shoved it in a drawer and went to bed. I laid there for 5 minutes and jumped back up to go to the bathroom. I laid the test on the counter to "season" (Juno) and went back to my room. I changed my pajamas to pass the time. I watched the clock: 1 minute, 2 minutes... 3 minutes. Back down the hall and slowly into the bathroom. I peaked over the test. One pink line; not pregnant. I just turned around and went back to bed. But as I laid there I felt it again. No, I know I am pregnant, I thought. I went back to the bathroom and picked up the test. I pulled it closer to my face and stared. There to the side of a dark pink line was a very light pink second line. I gasped and threw my hand over my mouth to keep from shouting. It was midnight, and Tyler was gone to High Adventure for 2 more days. Before I could think clearly, I was running up the stairs and bursting into my mother-in-law's room, hyperventilating and terrifying her, "I think I'm pregnant!" "WHAT?" She threw the covers and jumped out of bed. I told her she had to come down stairs and look at my test. With a second pair of eyes and my undeniable feelings, it was confirmed, I was pregnant.

6.23.16

I waited and surprised Tyler with the news when he got home. We were ecstatic, scared, overjoyed, shocked, etc. with a wide range of emotions. The Lord was blessing us with our little Rainbow baby. The timing, the feelings, we just felt sure that this little miracle was going to come and be ours and be the Rainbow we desperately needed after years of dark storms. 

The weeks pass and I start getting sick and feeling pregnant. It is the worst best thing in the world, feeling pregnant, but I'm just happy to be doing it! Sure enough, as with the others, my little bump makes it's appearance early. By 7 1/2 weeks I have a round belly by nighttime, and by 8 weeks it's present from the time I wake up in the morning, I'm wearing maternity pants before 9 weeks. Eh. Who cares? I'm pregnant!

7.28.16

I wrap the tissue paper thin sheet around my waist and hop onto the chair. Tyler, grinning, grabs my hand and we wait for the doctor to come in.

Dr. Lister, is all smiles and excited to see us. She's as hopeful as we are for this pregnancy. We chat about how I'm feeling (so sick, puking multiples times a week sick) and about what an amazing surprise this is to have just gotten pregnant so soon and so easily!

Finally, it's time to see this little babe, so we stare up at the dark screen with anticipation. The screen lights up as she moves over my uterus. And there it is. This perfect little gummy bear, just sitting there looking just like he/she should. Looking just perfect for 9 weeks. But... what? Dr. Lister's face droops. She closes her eyes and cries, "Dammit! You've got to be kidding me." She drops her face into her arm and says words I can't even believe I'm hearing, "There's no heartbeat."

I stare at her, confused. She grabs my leg and locks eyes with me, "I'm so sorry, Brittany." She turns to Tyler, "I'm so so sorry." She measures it's little body- 8 weeks and 2 days. My pregnancy is exactly 8 weeks and 6 days. It just died a few days ago. My head is spinning. I'm not crying. I'm just staring at it until she removes the ultrasound wand, and my baby is gone. Inside my head is just a voice screaming, WAKE UP! THIS ISN'T REAL!! WAKE UP! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!" But nothing changes I'm still laying here, with my feet in the stirrups and staring at a black screen where I had just seen the image of my lifeless baby.

With tears in her eyes, Dr. Lister says she'll give us a minute and leaves us there in the dark. There's tears in my eyes but I'm still not crying and I don't know why. I can't find my words. Tyler and I try to console each other, but we're speechless and we're... we're... confused? broken? lost? wrecked? Yes. All of the above.

Dr. Lister comes back and we go over our options. We know from plenty of experience that we just want to get this over with and have a D&C. She completely agrees.

We wander out of the office and out to our cars. We call our parents and we drive home separately. Alone in my car, driving down Harrison, it hits me and I lose it. I feel my chest burst open and like my heart is being sliced into tiny pieces and I'm trying to see through a fit of tears to keep driving. I just keep rubbing my bulging bump and begging God to give our baby back.

How much breaking can our hearts take? Heaven now holds our 3 children, and we/re left to wonder if we'll ever get to have one to bring home, left to wonder if we'll ever have the chance to truly be parents in this life. I cannot help it. I'm breaking apart. It just feels so unfair.

7.29.16

Today marks 2 years since Boston's due date. I can't believe I could have a 2 year old right now. But instead of thinking about a birthday party or the "terrible twos," I'm laying in bed thinking about the baby inside my body that's no longer living and waiting for the hospital to call me for surgery.

For what it's worth, this is a much better experience than that with Boston. With Boston we had tried medication to induce me to miscarry on my own, but it hadn't worked and I ended up in the ER a week later hemorrhaging and needing an immediate D&C. Since I'd had it on a Sunday, they had to keep me in the Postpartum unit. They had wheeled me past the nursery on the way to surgery and I had laid in a recovery room with a bassinet and the sounds of babies crying in neighboring rooms. It was a cruel form of torture. It took hours to revcover due to days without sleep and all the blood I'd lost. However, for this D&C I got to the surgical unit before it closed for the weekend. I checked in at 5:30 and was home before 9PM. So, by comparison this was much easier... but I just still can't believe it happened.

When I came out of anesthesia, I was delirious and confused I wasn't sure if it had happened yet. I looked over at the nurse next to me and asked if it was done. She came over to check some things and told me that I was in recovery and that they'd take me to my husband soon. I don't know what came over me, but I started bawling uncontrollably, It hit me that if it was over, I was empty. Through tears I heard myself ask the nurse, "So, my baby's gone?" Her eyes turned glassy and she just nodded and grabbed my arm and mouthed "I'm sorry." She turned and left the room, and a different nurse returned to take me back to my recovery room. Tyler and I felt like by the time we left we'd broken every nurse's heart. Going over my history, or asking questions, they would come to find that this was our 2nd pregnancy loss and that our 5 week old son had just died in December. You gotta love that look people give you when they find out. Like you're so broken- which you kind of are. Like how are you surviving- which you're kind of not. It was good to finally leave and not having everyone looking at us that way anymore.

Dr. Lister, obviously, felt concerned with the pattern our pregnancies have taken. Missed miscarriage, infant loss with multiple birth defects and, another, missed miscarriage. She got permission to perform genetic testing on the fetus, so we'll have another microarray done to test this baby's genes. If the genes come back normal, we'll know that this miscarriage was just a fluke and we can try again, if we're up to it, in the future. If the genes are abnormal, we'll need to do some more extensive keriotype testing with my and Tyler's genes. It may just be that we cannot conceive a healthy embryo, and we'll be done with trying to. 

7.30.16

So, here I am now, waking up today and realizing this dream has really come to an end, again. There is a hallow and dull ache in my abdomen where our little baby's home has been demolished. 

I really thought this was going to be our chance. I had faith in it. I had faith in the Lord for it. I believed that this little baby would be our Rainbow and that we would bring this one home, healthy and full of life. But, again, we're left with empty arms and little hope. I can't really even seem to cry, even though I feel like it might help. I just feel numb.

I would like to tell you that my faith is unwavering and that I see God's hand and I understand His purposes. I want to. I want to be ever-faithful and ever-leaning on my Lord. But this time has made it very hard for me. This time I feel so blindsided, so broken. I'm so embarrassed to say that my prayers are weak and feeble, and my heart isn't truly in it. I am falling apart in the wake of this loss. Instead of getting our Rainbow we got another devastating storm. 

I just feel like somewhere beyond the rainbow, the end of it that we'll never reach, lay all of our hopes and dreams. And I feel so pessimistic for thinking that. I feel so disheartened that I feel so bitter. But I just do. I just feel so hopeless. I feel like it will never be our chance. The realization that we truly may never have children, is a tough pill to swallow. I feel like I'm leaving this blog post so unresolved, but I have no resolution right now. I can't tie up this sad story in a perfect bow and tell you that everything is just going to be alright, because I don't feel alright. So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't give you an hope. I feel almost out of hope today. I just don't know how much more our hearts can take.

XO